


Working Out Some Kinks 2019

by oneironym



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ascian-fucking, Kinktober 2019, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacles, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneironym/pseuds/oneironym
Summary: I am trying to kick some writer's block and a penchant to overthink things, and I my plan is to do it by writing kinky stuff.I don't plan to do every day, but I am angling to do a fair number, with a variety of pairings.The tag lists will grow, so check chapter titles for kink+pairing, and individual chapter notes for anything else specific.





	1. Aymeric/Estinien + wax play

**Author's Note:**

> Aymeric steals office supplies.

“Oh….” Estinien breathed, admiring the fresh droplets of white wax dripping across his forearm.

He lay nude on his back in Aymeric’s bed, and Estinien grinned up at his friend, who sat over him, straddling his hips. “You,” the dragoon accused, reaching out to grasp at Aymeric’s bare thigh with one hand, “Are  _ fucking filthy _ .”

“No, I made Filthy take a bath ere I allowed him into my bed,” Aymeric purred, even as a blush spread across his features. Estinien’s hair was hastily braided and still damp from washing, and Aymeric leaned down slowly to grasp it with his free hand. “Besides, they hardly bless the candles before putting them in storage. A true sin against the Fury would be allowing them to go to waste, especially with the surplus that the Congregation chapel seems to have accumulated.”

Estinien laughed softly and shook his head, sliding his hand further up his partner’s thigh. “How many candles did you take?” He brushed a calloused thumb over Aymeric’s skin, sliding it closer to his half-hard cock, and bared his teeth eagerly at the low hum Aymeric gave in response.

“How many would you like?” the knight replied, a challenge in his dark blue eyes. “You did like it, right?” Aymeric sat up again, brushing his thumb over his fingertips to conjure a small flame, and lit his candle again. 

“Yes,” Estinien breathed, and shifted under his friend as he felt his own erection come to full attention. He felt it brush against the curve of Aymeric’s ass and growled, then, arching his back a bit more. 

Aymeric moved his own hips slightly, and savored the moan Estinien tried to hold back. “You get that later, my friend. After you permit me to torment you, remember?” Dumbly, the dragoon nodded, and as the dark-haired man tilted the candle again, Estinien held his hands up as though he were catching cool raindrops instead of hot tears of wax.

The candle wax cooled in a matter of moments, and Estinien reached back with his hands to grasp the bars of the headboard of Aymeric’s bed. “Then you had best not keep me waiting, you bloody politician,” he growled, and watched as Aymeric’s eyes traced over his bare torso. Deciding where on his body to let more of the wax fall, Estinien knew; the anticipation made his skin prickle with gooseflesh. 

With a deliberate slowness, Aymeric at last lowered the tip of the candle enough to pour a bit more onto Estinien’s chest, over one of the few places that was not lined with old scars. The beads touched his flesh with tiny flares of heat - Estinien sucked air between his teeth - nearly painful, yet only for the briefest of moments before it began to cool.

“Stop me if you need me to,” the knight murmured, glancing up to meet Estinien’s gaze briefly, until he nodded. Then he returned his attention to the taper, changing the angle at which he held it to accumulate a bit more of the melted wax at the top, so he could have more at once to drip across the white-haired Elezen’s chest. The elegant angle of Aymeric’s wrist was that of the consummate swordsman Estinien knew him to be, and the dragoon’s lips parted in a sigh at the look of concentration on his partner’s face before more heated droplets fell onto his skin. The care in Aymeric’s hand did not translate perfectly to where the wax landed, but rather made for a tantalizing surprise as the candle wax ventured over more sensitive places. 

The burning made him flinch, and Estinien cut Aymeric off before the other man could express his concern: “I have been bathed in dragonfire, so do not ask me if this is too hot. It’s--” He had to stop to swallow, and shifted his hips slightly against Aymeric’s bottom. “I welcome your torment for now.’

“Fair,” Ayemric acknowledged with a grin on his lips, but Estinien could still feel him watching his face while he carefully poured more of the candle wax across the dragoon’s collarbone. 

Estinien let out a quiet growl of pleasure as his friend continued to decorate him. It singed, just enough, and he half-wished Aymeric might cover him over completely. Yet he had seen no other candles when he climbed into his lover’s bed, and he was certain he could not suffer the wait if Aymeric had to leave to fetch a second. How many of the slender tapers might it take, filling the room with the subtle scent of Ishgard’s chapels….

The beads that the knight had already already scattered across his skin looked nearly like the droplets of cum that he was so often left with when he and Aymeric made love like this, with the dark-haired man riding him. Willing himself to keep his hands out of the way and wait to see what all his partner had in mind, Estinien grasped harder at the headboard and arched his back until the wooden frame creaked; Aymeric was more than hard already, as well, and the dragoon had to wonder how the man kept such concentration in spite of it.

Aymeric’s hand stroking over his chest, pinching his nipple, tracing over some of the more solid bits of wax, made Estinien inhale deeply again, and he opened his eyes. Now the knight’s teeth were bared and he leaned down, sending coils of lust hotter than the lit candle into the white-haired Elezen’s gut. Estinien’s breath shuddered, and he willed himself to try to maintain even a fraction as much poise as as his lover, and not touch him, not yet.

Laughing softly, Aymeric shook his head, and lowered the candle, spilling more droplets over Estinien’s shoulder. The dragoon hissed - this was hotter, without as far to fall from the flame - and then Aymeric’s hand was there, too, his nails in the cooling wax and Estinien’s skin.

“Mine,” the knight breathed, now taking his turn to shift his hips to grind against his lover.

Estinien’s whimper turned to a giggle, and he released his grasp on the bed to grab at Aymeric’s wrist instead. “Wax seal of the Lord Commander, is that?” he teased. “You can’t get off unless you imagine me as paperwork?”

“I only need you,” Aymeric replied. “All of you.” The flicker of ferocious possessiveness in his eyes seemed to make the heat of his body and of the candle wax feel hotter, and the room around them feel colder, and Estinien shivered in spite of himself.

Knitting his fingers together with Aymeric’s over the shaft of the candle, Estinien twisted their hands just enough to allow wax to run down the side of the taper and over their fingers where they held it. The knight flinched at first, but saw the challenge in his lover’s eyes and did not release his grasp. Aymeric did start to lose his grasp, however, when Estinien reached with his other hand to grope him, rubbing at his inner thigh with a calloused thumb, then brushing his fingertips over Aymeric’s dripping cock.

“I will swive you into this Twelves-damned mattress,” the dragoon threatened. “Just give me the chance. Before you make me burn up, too.” 

Aymeric then conceded, though his damned smile did not slip from his lips, even as he parted them to blow out the candle. The curls of smoke in Estinien’s face carried the scent of the Congregation, with its austere warmth, the faintest hints of church incense, ages of notes, and the Lord Commander presiding over it all, as Aymeric loomed above him now….

Then, with a heady moan, Aymeric was around him at last, hot and tight, and memories no longer mattered. Estinien wrestled what remained of the candle from his hand with little effort, and pulled the other man down to his chest before forcing the back end of the taper into his mouth. Aymeric moaned in surprise, closing his eyes for a moment; when he opened them again, the eager, teasing look had returned, and he moved enough to take the candle deeper into his throat for a moment. Then he was moving, both riding Estinien’s cock and mouthing lewdly but carefully at the candle, trying not to mar the wax with his teeth. 

Fury, no one knew Estinien as Aymeric did, and the dragoon did all he could to prolong their lovemaking, which, in the end, was not terribly much. Somewhere along the way, the candle had gotten dropped, and Estinien clung to the knight with both hands like he would die if he did not, and the last thing he remembered before he climaxed was the sound of Aymeric growling his name, and the sensation of his nails scratching at the droplets of wax that clung to his skin where they had fallen.


	2. Solus/the first empress + tentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ascian porn? Ascian porn.

When he had introduced himself as an architect and a sorcerer, she had laughed. Dressed in armor, he hardly looked the former; being Garlean, there was no way he could be the latter. Yet his charisma and charm had swept her off her feet nonetheless, and she had eagerly become one of his first and most ardent supporters.

He had proven quite the architect: an architect of an empire, and now, as First Emperor Solus zos Galvus, he had placed her on the throne he had constructed at his side as his empress. 

As for his supposed sorcery... well.

The First Emperor was no Garlean at all.

A few nights before they were to be wed, he had revealed himself to her as an Ascian - though she decided promptly that she much preferred to call him a Paragon. It was her secret to keep, like a volatile fire shard close to her heart, but in accepting it, in accepting  _ him _ , she had found everything she wanted, and a few things she could not have imagined.

Right now, that was a warm royal bed. They were surrounded by a palace, too, and that by a nation where the magically deficit Garleans ruled over the races that had treated them as lesser. And she was surrounded by the Emperor. His Garlean body rested atop hers, slick with sweat as he fucked her just how she loved it with his thick cock. His mortal breath was hot across her breast, his lips all but burning as he pressed them to her nipple and sucked. He held one of her wrists in sturdy, calloused fingers of flesh and bone, smoothed his other palm over the soft curves of her side, then grasped at her hip as he drove deep into her again, making her scream.

Yet there was more of him. The sound was muffled by a slender tendril of cool, shadowy darkness that he had pressed between her lips. He played with her tongue, carefully not to make her gag, and he seemed to find as much pleasure in it as she did. Other extensions of the Ascian’s aether twined around her, holding her legs fast and sliding up between them. The chill of shadow in stark contrast to the heat of their mundane bodies was intoxicating, even more so as another amorphous appendage slithered between them and found its way inside her, stretching her further open. 

Solus raised his head to peer down into her eyes, close to climax himself, and withdrew from her mouth as she let out another ragged moan. 

“I will not split you in half, no need to fear that,” he panted, answering the question that she was far from able to voice. “Though I do so love hearing mortals scream….” He bared his teeth, half-closing his eyes as he sank deep into her again, and all she could see was the gold slivers of his damned beautiful predator eyes all but glowing as she cried out and came.

When she could think again, he was there still, his head resting against her breasts and strands of both colors of his hair plastered across his forehead with sweat. The Ascian still held her in his embrace, dark aetherial arms twined around her as surely as his corporal ones rested on her bare skin.

She ventured to move her free hand to brush some of the hair back from his face, and his lashes fluttered briefly as another coil of darkness brushed over her stomach.

He was a monster. He was a Paragon, a bringer of chaos.

Yet he was her Emperor, too, and her husband. No one pursued such a man of power and ambition without expecting danger, and valuing the thrill of it.

Solus zos Galvus was  _ her  _ monster.


End file.
